


wild tonic in the rain

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Get-Together Fic, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Soulmate Telepathy, break ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Jughead thought he was in the clear when his sixteenth birthday rolled around and there was no one else in his head. He was wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](https://riverdale-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1356.html?thread=72780#cmt72780): _Not everyone has a soulmate, but if you do have one, it's common knowledge that you start to hear their thoughts when you are both 16. Jughead thought he was in the clear when he turned 16 and there was radio silence. But the Veronica's birthday happened a month later... + they are still dating Betty and Archie, respectively + Kevin and Joaquin are also soulmates and have been able to hear each other this whole time, Kevin quickly figures out that this drama is happening with Jeronica_
> 
> this was so much fun to write!! the jugron fandom always needs more fics, and this prompt was too good to resist. i hope OP likes it! and i hope everyone else enjoys, too!!

**“The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.”**  
_―_ F. Scott Fitzgerald, _The Great Gatsby_

 

 

In a way, he’s never believed it. Not that he thought it was a hoax or a sham—except, he kind of did. Soulmate telepathy just seems too impossible, in his humble opinion. When he watches sickeningly cutesy couples on TV, he tells himself that they _must’ve_ rehearsed beforehand. There’s not even really any scientific proof that shows the telepathy is real; there are no brain scans that show different activity between people with soulmates and people without. There’s no genetic marker, not even for the people who go their whole lives without hearing a single thought in someone else’s intruding tone.

It’s all just far-fetched, is what Jughead’s saying. Has always been saying, since he was seven and Reggie Mantle tried to tell him his soulmate was probably his dog.

It’s _ridiculous_.

 

 

 

He’s sitting on his inflatable mattress when the clock tick-tick-tocks its way over to midnight. Archie is dead asleep in the bed beside him, Fred is much the same down the hall. Betty isn’t awake, had texted Jughead _‘goodnight and happy early bday!!!’_ an hour or two prior. Jughead is, for all intents and purposes, alone.

He stops typing and tries to clear his mind. He clears it of the story he’s writing and his other thoughts. He blocks out Archie’s snoring and the rhythmic click of the clock. He empties out his mind and focuses; he waits for something to fill the void. He waits for words or dreams or a song to filter through.

He feels triumphant after a few minutes when there’s only radio silence. Then, he feels a brief pang of disappointment—but pushes the feeling away by pouring himself into his novel, instead.

 

 

His birthday party is a certifiable disaster, in more ways than Jughead cares to count. He splits his knuckles on Chuck’s jaw and gets a good shiner and cut in return; Betty storms off crying, the whole party explodes, ends with his own dad stepping in. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t Jughead’s actual, very real life.

Later, in the diner, when he brings Betty’s palms to his lips and kisses the copper-tinged crescents, his heart skips a beat. Not because he loves her; not for any reason that he can put a name to. He holds her hands just as tight and closes his eyes so that she doesn’t see the spark of doubt in his eyes. He tells himself to stay in this moment and not pay attention to the traitorous sensation churning in his gut:

_Betty Cooper is not his soulmate_.

 

 

He has no way of knowing that for sure, of course. Betty’s own birthday isn’t until January, and the old myth goes that soulmates will hear each other’s thoughts once _both_ are sixteen. It’s straight out of Stephanie Meyer novel, if you ask Jughead. No one asks, so it’s a moot point. He keeps dating her, keeps holding her hand and kissing her and comforting her when she cries. If she’s caught on to his uncertainty yet, she hasn’t let it show.

He clings even more desperately to their relationship as his life continues to fall apart. When his dad is arrested, when his dad confesses, when his dad is charged—through it all Jughead clings to Betty and her unending affection. It’s something to lose himself in, even if he feels bad for practically exploiting her caring nature. Every day that passes feels like another stone in Jughead’s stomach, another tally in the column confirming his suspicions. He keeps ignoring them, and knows he’s going to regret it when the fallout finally comes.

When the case worker tries to send him to South Side High, Fred fights tooth and nail to keep him under the Andrews’ roof. Mary even steps up—Jughead wonders if they’re soulmates, and if that constitutes as conflict of interest on several levels, wonders if there’s been a TV show made about such a scandal yet. Mary puts together a list of character witnesses and lays out a case that plain and simple to a family court judge: Jughead is safer in the hands of found-family than some strangers in gang territory.

It feels a little like betrayal, Jughead thinks. To be casting so much blame on the Serpents, to be painting them as villains when they’re hardly more than apathetic pawns in this whole game.

But in the end, it works. And that’s all Jughead can bring himself to care about. The judge rules that there’s zero sense in putting Jughead in what is practically the same trailer park as before, when Fred is a stand-up citizen. Money problems aside, the judge adds, as long as both boys are kept in good health she sees no reason Jughead shouldn’t live with the Andrews.

They celebrate at Pop’s that night, and Jughead feels less hollow than he has since his birthday.

 

 

Veronica doesn’t stop talking about her upcoming birthday for two weeks prior. It’s not annoying, per se, but it’s tiresome. Especially when Jughead has already been roped into going and probably _helping_ orchestrate the whole thing. You decorate _one_ baby shower and suddenly you’re like a Property Brother or something.

When Jughead mutters as much under his breath, Betty looks wounded and Veronica laughs out loud.

“Been marathoning a lot of HGTV, Jug?” She taunts.

Jughead rolls his eyes and pretends his ears aren’t burning. If nothing else, Veronica’s comment got Betty to giggle; he’d take that over her concerned pout any day.

 

 

He wakes with a start the morning of December twelfth because the first thought he has _is not his own_. He jolts bad enough that he topples off the edge of his mattress and slams his nose into the floor. Groaning in pain, he almost misses the next thought that flickers through his head:

_What the fuck?_

And damn it all if he doesn’t know that voice.

He does the only thing he can think of: he replies.

_What the fuck indeed._

 

 

By a not-quite-unspoken agreement, he meets Veronica at Pop’s about a half hour later. He gets there first and orders his own favorite and what she tells him to order—via telepathy, because he’s apparently soulmates with _Veronica Lodge_ —and if Pop gives him a weird look, Jughead doesn’t catch it.

He brought his laptop with him but doesn’t bother setting it up. He curls both his hands around his milkshake and steals the cherry off Veronica’s while he waits for her to arrive.

The door jingles followed by the tell-tale snap of heels on tile.

Veronica slides into the booth like a graceful wind, and her cheeks pink as she stares at Jughead.

“So, this is a development.” She tugs her milkshake closer and frowns at the lack of cherry. “You owe me two, now.” She tells him.

“Maybe Pop forgot.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, and he doesn’t know if it’s her thoughts bleeding in or just his ability to read her that tells him: _Pop never forgets_.

Jughead opens his mouth to reply but realizes, hilariously enough, he can’t think of a damn thing to say. He’s saved when Pop slides two plates onto the table. Jughead busies himself with eating instead; he’s gratified when Veronica does the same, albeit much slower than Jughead himself.

“We need to talk about this.” She says halfway through.

Jughead swallows around his last bite of hash browns. “We don’t _have_ to.” He posits it plainly.

Veronica sighs. “Jughead, I know this isn’t… ideal. But it’s the hand we’re dealt, alright?”

“We don’t even like each other.”

Veronica lays her hand daintily over her chest. “When did I ever say that? I like you plenty, Jughead Jones. When you’re not being an insufferable brat.”

“Me? I’m the brat?” He counters.

“I never said I wasn’t a brat, too. But you’re _definitely_ a brat.” She steals his last piece of toast. “Penance,” she tells him, “for the cherry.”

“I’m not breaking up with Betty.”

Veronica nods. “I’m not going to break up with Archie.”

At the same time, the thought crosses their minds:

_Yet_.

 

 

“Hey man, where were you?” Archie asks, sleep-heavy at the kitchen table when Jughead slips back into the house. He and Veronica didn’t really end up talking about it; nothing aside from a few quiet (read: telepathic) acknowledgments that shit is going to hit the fan eventually.

“Had a craving for Pop’s.” Jughead replies.

_Smooth,_ Veronica’s voice rings between his ears.

Archie buys it easily. “So you’re not hungry?” He asks as he slowly rises from the table. “I could make eggs.”

Jughead grins and something settles in his chest. “I could go for some eggs.”

Veronica’s voice is suspiciously absent during his second breakfast, and it’s a blessing as much as it’s an annoyance. It’s like now that she’s gone, he can’t stop thinking about how she _should_ be there. Not her, specifically of course. Just that now that he’s had someone else’s voice in his head, it seems wrong to be alone with his thoughts.

_You’re not alone, I’m still here. I’m just busy_.

He chokes on his next bite of eggs.

 

 

Veronica’s birthday is the polar opposite of Jughead’s: quiet, fun, and small. Which seems odd, given who the birthday girl is. But when Jughead opens his mouth to comment, Veronica shoots him a glare that quells the words in an instant. (Archie gives him a weird look after, but doesn’t call him out)

Betty baked a cake this time too, but there’s no eerily-lit candle serenade for Veronica like there was for Jughead. There’s minimal fanfare in general, funny enough. Despite the lack of parental supervision, despite the fact they’ve busted into the liquor cabinet again, it’s… tame.

“Let’s be honest.” Veronica announces suddenly, drawing all eyes to her. “The only reason Jughead’s birthday was the monumental riot it was is because Cheryl and Chuck showed up uninvited. I actually _invited_ Cheryl, but she turned me down.” Announcement made, she sits back in her chair and brings her champagne to her lips. “This is nice,” she tacks on at the end.

Jughead’s ears are burning again and resolutely forces himself to stop comparing their birthdays.

Veronica smiles and Jughead pretends the burn in his gut is from alcohol, not something crazy—like butterflies.

 

 

“Juggie?”

He contemplates keeping his eyes closed and pretending to be asleep, but then Betty reaches for him and he opens his eyes on reflex. “Yeah, Bets?”

“You—you’re not hearing anyone, right?”

Jughead blinks rapidly. “What? No, I told you. Radio silence.” The lies spilling from his mouth make his stomach roil. “Has Veronica heard anything?” He asks with an air of casual interest.

It works, and Betty jumps on it. “She says no, but I think she’s lying. Every so often she gets this,” Betty chews her lower lip as she searches for the word. “This glassy look in her eye, like she’s somewhere else. You know?”

Jughead shrugs, and Betty grins. She seems appeased, whatever anxiety that had been gnawing at her has settled. She pats his cheek again and steals a chaste kiss. Then she rolls over—they’re all spread around the living room floor in sleeping bags—and goes to sleep.

Jughead lays awake until the inevitable happens.

_Why did you lie?_

_What else am I supposed to say?_

He can even hear Veronica’s unhappy huff in his mind. _You’re leading her on._

_I thought we agreed we weren’t going to let this interfere with our current relationships._

_I didn’t mean lie about it._ Veronica retorts.

_Liar,_ is his snappy comeback.

_Jerk._

Jughead sighs. _I don’t know what to tell her,_ he admits.

_She’s going to find out in a couple weeks anyway._

_I know_. Jughead swallows a groan and buries his face in his pillow. _I know._

Veronica hums. _We’re bad people._

_Maybe that’s why we’re soulmates._

Her laugh, real and stifled from a few feet away, makes Jughead’s stomach warm again.

_Goodnight._ He thinks it hurriedly, and tries to wonder without wondering if his anxiety bleeds through his thoughts too.

_It does,_ Veronica tells him, _but I won’t ask. Goodnight, Jughead._


	2. Chapter 2

**“Every good thing comes to some kind of end, and then the really good things come to a beginning again.”**   
_―_ Cory Doctorow, _Makers_

 

 

 

Christmas comes and goes. He and Betty exchange homemade gifts; she tells him it’s because her birthday is January second, too soon after the holiday. He knows it’s actually because his pockets are as empty as ever and he couldn’t afford something even if he really wanted to spoil her. He writes her a poem instead, and she knits him a scarf.

_Cute_. Veronica’s voice slips in a few days later. _She made me mittens_.

Jughead doesn’t reply.

_What’re you going to do when her birthday rolls around?_ A pause. _Do you need help buying something?_

Jughead groans. _I think it’d add insult to injury to buy her a gift the same day she figures out I’m not her soulmate. Especially if she figures out I’ve been lying to her for months._

The way she hums, Jughead knows Veronica is nodding thoughtfully. _If it helps, she’s not going to be very happy with me either. Neither is Archie._

_Don’t remind me,_ he begs.

_Okay._ She sounds genuinely apologetic, and Jughead hates it.

 

 

“I want you there.”

Jughead is panicking. “Your mom would never let me stay.”

“You come in through the window all the time, how’s this any different, Juggie?”

_Ooh, scandalous_.

Jughead barely stops himself from looking over his shoulder at Veronica; she sits a few booths down with Kevin and Archie.

“I—I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Jughead is holding Betty’s hands but the skin-on-skin contact feels like a brand.

“Do you think we’re not soulmates?” She asks, voice wet and careful.

“It’s not that, Betty. It’s not that I _think_ that.” _I know it,_ he doesn’t say aloud. “It’s that—well, if we’re not, I don’t want you to be disappointed. I mean, I don’t want to see—that’s not.” He groans and tilts his head back. He abandons one of her hands to comb it anxiously through his hair, knocking his beanie aside in the process. “I just don’t want you to get upset.”

“I think it would be less upsetting if you were at least there. What if we’re not soulmates, and you’re across the street, and I’m alone?”

Jughead gulps back another protest. “Okay,” he murmurs. He nods. Nods rapidly, like he’s sure. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll be there.”

_This is going to suck. For both of you._

Jughead, now that Betty is less upset, does turn and look over his shoulder. Veronica isn’t even watching them.

 

 

Jughead climbs the rungs of the ladder as slow as he can without risking getting caught. The window is already open for him and Betty is sitting on her bed. She’s in a cute little pajama set, and Jughead’s heart throbs with sadness. Tonight is the night it all ends—unless Betty actually wants to be with someone that’s not her soulmate. Which isn’t like her, isn’t the type of starry-eyed girl she’s always been. If there’s any justice in the world, Archie will be her soulmate and she’ll get the love story she wanted all along.

_Hey, I’m still listening._ Veronica’s words cut through the rest of his thoughts.

_You really think it’ll last with Archie?_ He thinks as he sits beside Betty. He takes her hands and kisses her cheeks.

“Shoes off,” she tells him softly.

While he busies himself with unlacing his booths, Veronica replies.

_I don’t know if it will, but it’s still…. It’s still rude to talk about my boyfriend like that. Rude to me, I mean._

Jughead sighs. _Sorry. Under a little pressure right now, in case you hadn’t heard._

She doesn’t reply. Jughead kicks his shoes aside and together he and Betty lay on the covers together.

“If we’re not soulmates,” Betty begins softly, “do you still want to stay together?”

Jughead gives her a tiny shrug. “It doesn’t seem fair, really. To stay together.”

Betty nods, eyes watering. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t want to break up really, either.” He hurries to add because it’s mostly true. He doesn’t want to hurt her; he doesn’t want to break up and break her heart. But he’s not sure how long he can keep up the façade.

“So, it’s up to me?” Betty asks with a quiver of fear in her tone.

“I dunno, Bets. Let’s. Let’s save it for after, okay?”

Betty looks over his shoulder at the clock on her bedside table. “It’s eleven fifty-five.”

Jughead nods. “Okay.”

 

 

He crawls back onto his inflatable mattress at a quarter to one and Archie is awake.

“Dude.”

Jughead falls face first on top of the covers, shoes on and all. “It sucked.”

Archie frowns. “Not soulmates?”

Jughead shakes his head. “She cried. So much.” Jughead’s own eyes are burning now, and he’s glad he’s smothering his face in his pillow. “It was awful.”

Archie sits back, propped up on an elbow, and looks down at Jughead. “So, you guys broke up?”

Veronica’s laughter echoes in his head. It’s nice, if also bittersweet.

“Yeah, Arch, we broke up.” Jughead sits up finally and stripes off his jacket and shoes. “We agreed it was best, since we’re not soulmates. Why bother trying to force something the universe,” he gestures toward the sky, “obviously didn’t want to happen?”

Archie nods along. “You—you don’t seem that upset.”

Jughead slips under the covers. “I guess I knew it was gonna happen. Ever since my birthday, I just had this feeling that she wasn’t my soulmate. And I think she knew it too, she just hoped it wasn’t true.” Jughead yawns. “I’m beat, dude. Can we save this for the morning?”

Archie looks embarrassed, stricken. “Yeah, man, of course. Just. I’m here, you know. If you wanna talk.”

“Thanks, Archie.”

 

 

News travels fast, though nothing really changes about his day-to-day life. He still walks to school most mornings with Archie and Betty (though, now instead of him in the middle, holding Betty’s hand, it’s Archie in the middle and conversation is stunted). He still sits with them at lunch and they still go out to Pop’s after school. He and Betty still work on the _Blue & Gold_ together, though they don’t talk as much.

It’s awkward, but not that much different.

That is, until Kevin corners him one day after lunch.

 

 

“Is this a shakedown? Joaquin’s a bad influence.” Jughead’s teasing but the look in his friend’s eyes is unnerving.

Kevin’s lips are pursed. “You have a soulmate.”

On instinct, Jughead looks around alarmed. When he’s sure the coast is clear he looks at Kevin again, and realizes he’s entirely given himself away. “Okay, yes.”

“You’ve known for a while.” Kevin’s eyes narrow.

Jughead glares. “Says who?”

“Says your expression.” Kevin barrels on. “I’ve known since Joaquin’s birthday in November, it’s pretty fun, right?”

_Wait, Kevin has a soulmate? And he didn’t tell me?_

Jughead blanches and Kevin grins. “You _do_ have a soulmate.”

“Didn’t I just confirm that for you?”

Kevin waves away Jughead’s snarky retort. “And it’s not Betty,” he says it slowly. Like he’s piecing together a puzzle. Jughead watches him mouth names under his breath, pausing every so often as though to pose a question before thinking better of it.

“You could just ask,” Jughead points out.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

_Please don’t tell him._

Jughead, for a split second, wants to. Wants to just tell _someone_. But Veronica’s urgency bleeds in and he tamps out the urge. “I’m not telling. Even if you do guess.”

Kevin isn’t nearly as put out by that as Jughead had hoped.

_God, it’s like you don’t know him at all,_ Veronica chides. _He loves a challenge._

“I’ll find out. Just you wait.” And just like that, he’s gone.

Jughead slumps against the wall. _Why me?_

Veronica scoffs. _Don’t be so melodramatic._

 

In the end, Kevin finds out because Veronica lets it slip that she knows about him and Joaquin. Not that it’s especially surprising, but the fact that Kevin hadn’t told anyone kind of is. One weekend Kevin goes home with Veronica and by Sunday morning Jughead’s got her voice swimming in his head:

_He knows. He’s promised not to tell anyone, but Kevin knows._

Jughead just mentally flips her the bird—does it works with pictures? Could he share memories? —before going back to bed.

 

 

Archie’s birthday is more exciting than Jughead’s by a mile: not because of any fistfights or excessive alcohol, but because Jughead _totally_ called it.

Unlike Jughead’s party or Veronica’s, Archie’s starts on the eve of his birthday. In Jughead’s opinion, it’s a disastrous idea. He had his moment in private, and Veronica had her moment alone, too. Betty had hers with Jughead, and then alone, and that was for the best. Inviting all your closest friends over to see if you find your soulmate seems like asking for trouble.

They’re gathered around a clock and Jughead is sucking down alcohol like he needs it to breathe. Betty has this flush on her cheeks that’s partly from the wine but partly from the way she keeps casting stares at Archie. Veronica’s been in a fit all day, not that Jughead can blame her. Kevin looks like the cat that got the canary, ready for the latest gossip-bomb to drop. Cheryl, who actually agreed to tag along this time, looks insufferably bored.

The clock counts down and the minute it slips to _12:01am_ flashed repeatedly, Archie and Betty gasp in unison. It’s like a switch has flipped, with Betty and Archie turning to look at each other, and Kevin smacking at Joaquin’s arm in excitement. Even Cheryl looks intrigued, sitting up straight and leaning in with interest.

Jughead inevitably finds himself looking over at Ronnie; she’s tucked into a corner and watching the display, freakishly apathetic. With all their friends distracted, Jughead carefully makes his way around the room to stand beside her. At first, he opens his mouth, then thinks better of it.

_I’m sorry._

Veronica looks over at him. Her eyes are wet, but her expression is flat. _Why?_

_I know this isn’t what you wanted._ He gestures to the cacophony erupting before them, the chatter becoming almost unbearable.

_It’s not what I wanted,_ she agrees, _but it’s what I expected._ She shrugs and flashes him a sad grin. _I’m happy for them._

_Me too,_ Jughead replies. He leans in and bumps his shoulder against Veronica’s lightly. The next smile she flashes him is a little less tense, a little more warm.

 

 

The next morning, while everyone is passed out in various spots around the house, Jughead and Veronica sneak out to Pop’s. Again.

Jughead orders for them both while Veronica touches up her makeup in the mirror. She’d been the one to wake him, and she’d been the one to insist they hurry. He finds it a little funny that she’d rather fix herself up here than at Archie’s, but thinks about what’s back there—regrets, a lot of words unsaid, hurt—and can’t say he blames her.

He didn’t even bother bringing his laptop this time. He grabs their usual booth and by the time she comes back out, their food and milkshakes are ready.

Veronica looks at the three cherries on top and gasps softly.

Jughead ducks his head to hide his smile.

“So,” Veronica starts after popping the cherries into her mouth one at a time. She made knots of each stem, set them aside like it’s nothing, even though Jughead is pretty sure he forgot how to breath for a second after seeing the first one. “What do we do now?”

Jughead focuses on stabbing a bite consisting of hash browns, bacon, sausage, and eggs all at once.

“Jughead.”

“I don’t know what we do now.” He shovels the food into his mouth. Veronica just sits back and watches him. “I don’t know, Ronnie. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I—it’s not that you have to say anything.” Veronica hides her face in her hands for a moment, then brushes them through her hair. “I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

They both pause, then grin.

“You know what I mean.” She tells him after a gentle kick to the shin. “What do you want to do?”

Jughead eats slower, until eventually he’s pushing food around his plate rather than eating. “I don’t know what I want.” He throws in a shrug for good measure. “I think you should officially break up with Archie, first.”

Veronica stiffens, but nods. “Okay. That’s a good first step.”

“And then I think we should wait. Because I’m still not totally ready to admit to our two best friends that we’ve been lying for the better part of three months.”

Veronica nods again. “Fair.” She finally starts to eat her own food; she starts with the toast. “After that?”

Jughead pauses to sip his milkshake. “After that… maybe we can give this whole… dating thing a shot.”

Veronica laughs and chokes on her bite of eggs and Jughead can’t help but think—

_Revenge is sweet._

 

 

Jughead and Fred make a point of cleaning up the mess of the party as well as finally getting Jug moved into the spare room, while Archie and Veronica have a conversation on the porch. Jughead keeps his thoughts clear, keeping Ronnie’s at bay all the while, and ignores the looks Fred shoots him every so often. Since the party wasn’t a rager, there’s not much to clean up; Jughead’s half-moved into the spare room as it is, so that doesn’t take long either.

When all is said and done Jughead and Fred stand awkwardly in the living room.

“So. Betty and Archie.”

Jughead nods. “Yep.”

“And you… You’ve got a soulmate, then?”

Jughead’s ears burn. “Ah, yeah.”

Fred raises an eyebrow.

“It’s Ronnie. But we haven’t told anyone.”

Fred ‘ah’s under his breath. “That’s… unexpected.”

Jughead barks out a laugh. “You’re telling me.”

_I’m still listening, you know,_ her voice drifts in.

“Oh, I know that look. What’s she sayin’?” Fred teases.

“Just, uh. A thinly veiled threat not to trash talk her. I guess?” He shrugs.

Fred just shakes his head. “You’ll get used to it, Jug. It’s really not so bad.” His eyes go foggy, nostalgic. Jughead wants to ask—is Mary your soulmate, if not then _who_ , how do you handle it—but he has better manners than that.

_Better manners than me, that’s for sure._ Veronica sighs. _We’re coming in. Make up an excuse so you and I can go, because Archie is going to want to have a talk with his dad, I’m sure._

Jughead opens his mouth, but somehow Fred seems to have read his expression. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says easily. Archie and Veronica come in not long after, and Jughead is relieved to see they’re both smiling. Tired, but smiling.

“Your dad’s in the kitchen,” Jughead answers before Archie can ask. “Want me to walk you home, Ronnie?”

Veronica nods.

Jughead pauses as he steps toward Archie. Something in his friend’s eyes gives him pause.

“We’re cool, right?” Archie asks, uncertain and full of fear.

Jughead schools his confusion to something less blatant. He did date Betty after all, it’s not weird for Archie to check in with him. Right?

_Just answer him so we can go._

Jughead flicks his gaze to Veronica, though she looks entranced with her phone. He turns back to Archie and nods.

“Yeah, Arch, we’re cool. I’m happy for you.” He claps Archie on the shoulder and flashes him a genuine grin. “I called it, just so you know.”

Archie laughs. “Whatever,” he teases back. “See you guys.” He gives a little wave, then heads toward the kitchen.

Jughead and Veronica watch him walk away before finally heading toward the front door themselves. There’s spring rain on the grass and sidewalk and there’s a slight chill ruffling their clothes.

After a while, Veronica pipes up. “So what exactly is your timeline for this whole thing?”

Jughead looks over at her. She just stares again. “I didn’t have an exact figure in mind.”

She hums in her usual, inquisitive way. He’s come to learn it’s something of a harbinger, not of doom but of meddling.

“Why? You’re that eager to date me?”

Veronica smiles, pink in the cheeks. “The past couple months have given me a unique insight into your mind, Jughead Jones the Third. I would say I’m not diametrically opposed to dating you sooner, rather than later.”

Jughead feels own face warm, wonders if it’s as blotchy and uneven as it feels.

“It is,” Veronica tells him. “It’s cute.”

_Not helping_ , he tells her when he can’t force the words out.


	3. Chapter 3

**“Look what we've done so far. We're pretty good at the impossible.”**   
_―_ Richelle Mead, _Soundless_

 

 

 

They spend more time together, after that. As friends. Who flirt. And are soulmates.

But _just_ friends.

Really.

 

 

“Why does no one else think it’s weird you two are spending so much time together?” Kevin asks one day at Pop’s. Archie and Betty haven’t arrived yet, so it’s just Kevin, Jughead, and Veronica crammed into a corner booth.

“Because the only two people who would remotely give a shit are deeply entranced with each other?” Veronica replies while snatching a fry from Jughead’s plate. “Not everyone is you, Kevin.”

Kevin sighs. “I know, but I still can’t believe they haven’t noticed. How are they _that_ wrapped up in each other?”

“You know as well as I do that this has been coming since childhood,” Jughead points out. “Just let them be.”

Kevin deflates. “Fine.” Just as quick, he’s back to razor sharp awareness. “Speaking of you two, though—?”

“No.” Jughead and Veronica reply in unison.

 

 

“What do you mean you haven’t actually seen _Goodfellas_?” Jughead ignores the way Archie rolls his eyes. Instead, his attention is entirely focused on Veronica.

“It just never came up.” She shrugs, closes the compact mirror in her hand and tucks it into her bag.

“You have to watch it, though. It’s a masterpiece.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. _Really?_

_Your place, tonight, nine?_

Veronica sighs. “Fine.” She pretends to be engaged in her phone. “You tell me when, Jughead Jones, and I’ll be there.” There’s a fake sweetness in her tone, one that’s belied by the grin on her lips and the softness of her thoughts.

_It’s a date._

 

 

“I’m going out, _mija_.” Hermione calls out at the door.

“Okay, mom!” Veronica calls back.

“Stay safe!” Then she’s gone with a quick click of the door.

Veronica looks over at Jughead, who stays thoroughly focused on his book. “She doesn’t know, you know.”

“My dad doesn’t either.”

Veronica scoots closer. Jughead puts his book aside.

“How’s your novel going?”

“Stagnating, ever since Jason’s murder was solved.”

Veronica hums. “Thinking of writing something else?”

Jughead looks up, surprised by how close she’s gotten. Her arm is across the back of the couch and she’s so close he can feel her breathe. “Yeah, I should.”

“I’ve been told I’m a fantastic muse.” She flashes him a grin, eyelashes fluttering, and keeps up the pose for all of ten seconds before dissolving into laughter. Jughead finds himself following suit.

 

 

_What do you want to do after high school?_

Jughead stops typing. _I could’ve been asleep, you know._

_But you’re not, so no harm done. What do you want to do after high school?_

Jughead saves his document then sets his laptop aside. Slowly he slips under the covers, rests his head on his pillow, closes his eyes as though it helps him hear Veronica’s voice better. _I’m not sure yet. Probably something to do with writing._ He waits, and when he doesn’t get a reply, he prompts her. _You?_

_I don’t know, either._

Jughead opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. _That’s okay. We can figure it out._

Silence ensues, and Jughead waits it out. Eventually, Veronica speaks up again.

_Thanks, Jughead._

_Of course. What are soulmates for?_

 

 

“How many school dances can one high school have in a year?” Veronica announces one day at lunch. That morning during the announcements, an overly chipper voice had gone over the dates and theme for the spring formal. Jughead’s been listening to Veronica rant about it all day, and can’t help the sigh of relief that other people have to hear it now too. Even if she shoots him a dirty look.

“We like school spirit,” Betty says, all tucked along Archie’s side. They’ve become sickeningly cute since his birthday, and as much as Jughead is happy for them he could also do without… all of that. “Besides, you love the dances.”

“I do, I do.” Veronica says while waving a flippant hand to dispel Betty’s concerns. “It’s just… excessive.”

“Found a date yet?” Kevin interjects with a hilariously unsubtle look between Veronica and Jughead. It goes entirely missed by Betty and Archie, who’ve delved into their own discussion of what to wear. Kevin looks put out that his audience is actually his intended victims, and lets the question go unanswered.

_We could go, you know._

Jughead keeps eating.

_I do like dances,_ Veronica adds.

She continues. _It’s been a month and a half. I think they’d forgive us if they found out._

Jughead shoots her a sidelong look. _When they find out._

Veronica shrugs.

_To be discussed,_ Jughead replies.

 

 

They don’t tell their friends they’re going together, because as Veronica puts it, “it’s better to make an entrance.” Jughead isn’t sure how much of an entrance it’ll really be, since it’ll probably be dark and busy, but he doesn’t argue. He likes the gleam in her eyes and likes the feeling of her fingertips skimming his neck as she ties his tie.

They pause, standing in the middle of her room.

_Looking good,_ they think at the same time.

Jughead’s hands twitch at his sides and he wants to take Veronica by the waist Her eyes keep darting down to look at his mouth, and he wonders what her dark purple-red lipstick would taste like.

He watches the blush light up her face.

“We should go,” he tells her.

She pouts in response.

“We should definitely go,” he tells her again, strangled. He steps away and steps around her. Before leaving the room, he turns back and holds out his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go make an entrance.”

Slipping her hand into his, she rolls her eyes. “Jerk.”

 

 

Veronica’s voice is ridiculously loud in his head as they walk in, and all eyes miraculously turn to them: _Told you so._

Cheryl’s smirking, which tells Jughead she’s probably known for a while. Kevin looks gob smacked and outraged—outdone, more like it, though Joaquin looks as cool as ever. Betty and Archie, cozy by the punch bowl, look over belatedly. Their mouths drop open in unison, and Jughead can only imagine what their thoughts are like.

He decides he really doesn’t want to know.

Veronica elbows him in the side and they start walking. It feels a little like walking to their imminent death—which earns him another elbow to the ribs—or like walking into the lion’s den. By the time they reach their two best friends, things are already tense and awkward.

“You guys look great,” Archie hurries to tell them.

Jughead shrugs. “She picked it out,” he nods at Veronica.

“I did. He let me.”

Betty is staring, mouth still gaping a little.

“So, uh.” Archie starts again. “This is… interesting.” He points between Veronica and Jughead with a sheepish smile. “Are you two… just, like. Going as friends?”

Jughead looks to the gym ceiling and counts backwards from ten. Veronica cuts in.

“No, Archie. We’ve been meaning to tell you…” She spares a brief glance at Jughead. “We—we found out the morning of my birthday, obviously.”

Archie nods. “Oh.”

“We didn’t—we didn’t do anything, though. Not while you two were dating,” Veronica gestures to Jughead and Betty. “And not while you and I dated, Archie.”

“I mean, we’re. _We’re_ not even dating. Yet. Kind of.”

Veronica shoots him a look and a thought. _So not helping_.

“You’re not dating?” Archie asks, more bewildered than ever.

“We are. We will be. I guess this counts as a first date.” Veronica looks at Jughead again, expression curious.

Jughead nods as confirmation. “We didn’t want to jump right into it, not when you and her and just broken up. It didn’t seem right.”

Betty’s mouth is finally closed, glossed over in soft pink. “Wow,” she whispers.

“I know, Bets. It’s insane. But, we didn’t want to hurt you guys. It’s not like we’ve been—in love, behind your back or anything.”

Betty nods. “I get it, V. It’s fine.” She finally smiles and it’s like a weight has lifted off Jughead’s shoulders. “I’m happy for you guys.” She steps outside of Archie’s bubble long enough to hug Veronica, then Jughead. “Really. It’s awesome.” Her eyes are bright and her smile is wide, and Jughead knows she can’t really lie worth a damn, not over something like this.

“Oh, thank god.”

A song starts to blare over the speakers and Betty lights up even more, and tugs at Archie’s sleeve. She pulls him out to the dancefloor, leaving Jughead and Veronica standing by the punchbowl.

Veronica pours herself a glass then turns to face the crowd of their peers.

“Why do I get the sense that I put my foot in my mouth back there?”

“Because you kind of did.”

Jughead shrugs, raises his hands in surrender. “It’s not like we had a formal discussion about this.”

The look she aims his way is both bored and unhappy.

“I do want to date you, Ronnie. I just—I didn’t know if we were going to tell people that, or if we were going to wait and see how tonight went.” He scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

Veronica downs her punch. “It’s fine.” She sets the empty cup aside and takes him by the hands. “Let’s dance.”

Of course, by the time they make it to a spot on the dancefloor, the song has shifted from something hyper and upbeat to something that croons. A soft, thick voice like Sinatra or Martin; one that feels fitting for his first dance with Veronica.

She arranges them as she pleases, and he lets her. He lets her pull his hands to her waist and plant them awfully low; he lets her pull him in close and wind her arms around his shoulders. The heels she’s in put them nose to nose, eye to eye.

“Well?” She asks under her breath.

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

_Well what?_

Veronica grins. _What do you think? Of this. Being together?_

_Can’t you tell what I’m thinking?_

“I want to hear you say it,” she says suddenly.

“I like it,” he replies just as swiftly. “A lot. It’s nice.” He squeezes his hands on her waist and leans in so their noses brush. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Veronica tilts her head. “So what’re you waiting for?”

He kisses her, then, because it’s what she’s asking for. He curls his arms around her waist and pulls her impossibly closer. He kisses her and licks the faintly fruity taste of her lipstick off her mouth, then licks his way inside. She opens her mouth to him with a soft sound. He memorizes the feel of her, the shape, then pulls back.

She swallows, nodding. “That was worth waiting for.”

Jughead grins, just for her. “It was.” They still drift in small circles, staring at one another like a challenge. Veronica smirks.

_You should kiss me again._

He does.


End file.
